


Thorin Oakenshield the Ravenkeeper

by MordorIsCalling



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Shire, Established Relationship, Fluff, Gift Fic, M/M, Marriage, One Shot, POV Thorin, Shire Husbands, The Shire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-02
Updated: 2019-03-02
Packaged: 2019-10-23 12:52:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17683814
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MordorIsCalling/pseuds/MordorIsCalling
Summary: Thorin thought Bilbo and the ravensreallydid not like each other. Then he found out the truth in the most endearing way.





	Thorin Oakenshield the Ravenkeeper

**Author's Note:**

  * For [badskippy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/badskippy/gifts).



> This fic is a gift for badskippy for his HUGE, amazing contribution to this fandom. You’ve written so many wonderful fanfictions, badskippy, it’s incredible! (To me your best fics are like Queen’s greatest hits, if you want to enumerate all of them you always forget about some because they’re so many). So THANK YOU, for them all, especially for my most beloved “No Ordinary Love”. I hope you enjoy this one-shot at least a bit ;) 
> 
> Also, the idea for this fic first came to my mind when I saw a prompt about Thorin being a ravenkeeper in the Shire or something like that. The problem is that I forgot whose prompt was that ;-; Maybe some of you here may know what I’m talking about, so that I can give the person the credit? 
> 
> Anyway, please enjoy! :3

A croak from somewhere above tore his thoughts away from his work. Thorin snapped his head up and saw a raven descedning from the sky at a fast speed. He couldn’t yet distinguish if it was any of the birds he knew, but his new guest landed on the front gate of Bag End quickly enough, and the former King Under the Mountain was pleased to see a familiar figure.

“Hello, Crarr,” Thorin said.            

The bird bowed his head respectfully and returned the greeting with a sound that quite resembled “hail”.

Thorin put away the broom that he had been using to sweep the pavement of the front garden and walked up to the fence. He offered his forearm for Crarr hop on, and the bird did so immidiately. Thorin smiled at the familiar feeling of a raven weighting down his arm.

“You’ve shown up at unusual time,” he said as he started heading towards the back garden, “you must’ve been flying for a long time, I takie it?”

Crarr croaked in agreement but didn’t elaborate any futher.

“You must be on the way to Ered Luin, then.”

The raven made a low sound, once again confirming Thorin’s suspitions. Sensing his guest’s tiredness, he only added, “you’ll be plesed to find that some of your friends are here.”

The bird blinked at him with interest.

“Rack has stopped by on his journey to Erebor, and Arc is taking a break from travelling right now.”

Crarr jumped up slightly and gave an excited whistle. Thorin chuckled but said no more. He inteded to pass the rest of the walk in silence, but Crarr strated making a questioning noise that sounded very much like Thorin husband’s name.

“Bilbo?” Thorin frowned. “He... he’s home of course.”

The bird flicked his feathers in pleasure, which stroke Thorin as particularly odd. After all, Bilbo and the ravens _really_ didn’t like each other. Or so Bilbo had been saying ever since Thorin had started to receive his raven guests.

The first time Thorin had had raven visitors and he had convinced Bilbo to greet them by himself, his Hobbit had returned rather quickly, grumbling about “those blasted mean creatures”, angrily adding something about “specking and teasing” under his breath. And so, Bilbo had been avoiding (and cursing) the birds ever since, leaving the work of caring for them entirely to Thorin. Not that Thorin minded, yet it would please him so much more if his husband and “his” birds were on friendly terms.

Well, the ravens weren’t his in any way, actually. They were the messangers who carried correspondece between the Blue Mountains and Erebor, all of them being of Ravenhill origin.

Two years after Thorin had abdicated and moved to the Shire, as far away from the gold as possible, he had decided to built a special shed that would be a resting point for the travelling ravens.

Bilbo, who had recently become his husband at the time, hadn’t been overly ecstatic about the idea, pointing out, for example, that the huge black birds would give a heart attack to everyone in the neighbourhood, himself included.

Thorin hadn’t taken any of Bilbo’s arguments to heart. He had been certain that the residents of Hobbiton would get used to the ravens quickly and his husband would actually start to like them. Only the first part had proven to be true.

He sighed heavily as he started mounting the pathway leading to the shed, deciding not to think about that matter anymore.

When he was a few steps away from the door, he stopped short, then blinked.

He had heard Bilbo’s voice. Coming from the shed.

He shook his head slightly so as to check if he wasn’t hallucinating, but he still could hear Bilbo inside. He walked up to the door as silently as he could and listened, and all the while he kept stroking Crarr’s feathers in order to keep the bird quiet.

“My husband, bless his beard, I love with all my heart,” Thorin heard Bilbo say, and those words caused the dwarf to grin like a madman for more than one reason, one of them being the fact that his Ghivashel was, apparently, _talking to the ravens_.

The former dwarf King pricked up his ears even more.

“Yet I must say,” Bilbo continued, “that he’s absolute rubbish at cleaning up.” And now the former dwarf King held back a snort. “To accomodate his guests in such unrespectable conditions!” The Hobbit’s exclamation was followed by a rather indignant croak. “I know, my dear Arc, unthinkable! You’re of the ancient, noble race of Ereborian ravens and here the floor is not swept and the hay is not changed!”

Thorin huffed. He had cleaned the shed only yesterday.

“Oh, but look at you, Rack!” Bilbo went on, cooing, “your feathers look _ravishing_ , and you’re the private messanger of Lady Dís herself! Your parents must be so proud of you!”

Thorin was rather torn between feeling stunned, betrayed and charmed by his husband’s behaviour.

The problem was that he could not recall Bilbo often using such tender tone or affectionate words when talking _to him_ , and yet the Hobbit seemed to speak this way to the ravens readily.

It was also way too endearing.

He listened on.

“And how are you feeling today, sweet Arc?” Bilbo asked, fondness clear in his voice, “you weren’t that well when I checked up on you yesterday afternoon. You have me worried, dear, such long travels cannot be good at your respectable age! Well, let’s just hope we’ll see some improvement soon.”

Thorin frowned. Some things clicked into place now that he thought about it.

Now there was no wonder why Bilbo had been employing Thorin with some engaging tasks after luncheon or afternoon tea since a few weeks at the very least. Thorin had never given that a second thought because it had never been anything out of ordinary – just to clean up or repair something, go to the market or to the Gamgees. After doing what he had been asked for, Thorin would often find Bilbo doing something in the back garden, and finding a hobbit in his own garden was the furthest from suspicious that you could get.

Thorin certainly did not appreciate being deceived.

Crarr gave an impatient croak, and the dwarf King couldn’t hide his presence any longer. He opened the door to the shed and saw Bilbo standing next to the perches, looking like somone caught red-handed indeed. The Hobbit regained his composure almost right away though, and a slow smile stretched his lips.

“Hello, husband-dear,” he greeted Thorin sweetly.

Thorin shot him an unimpressed look. He opened his mouth to respond but at that moment Crarr decided to fly away from his forearm and land right on Bilbo’s shoulder. Then, without so much as by-your-leave, the bird started nuzzling Bilbo’s curls with his beak.

Bilbo laughed out loud at Crarr’s antics, and, despite his annoyance, Thorin had to admit to himself that his husband’s laugh had always been one of the most delightful sounds he had ever been graced to hear.

The Hobbit seated Crarr on the nearest perch and started stroking the bird’s head with a small, tender smile on his face.

This sight was doing strange things to Thorin’s heart.

The former King cleared his throat. “So, you don’t like them?” he asked, his arms crossed.

Bilbo looked at him then, with those kind eyes that could see right through him, and watched him for a moment. Thorin held his husband’s gaze, all the while thinking how blissfully powerless Bilbo made him sometimes.

Thorin Oakenshield could never be truly angry with his Hobbit, and said Hobbit knew that far too well. He walked up to Thorin with a bright smile, took the dwarf’s face in his hands and placed a quick kiss on the tip of Thorin’s nose.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bilbo said, and slipped past him.

Oh, Thorin loved his husband so.

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is also based on the real life situation when I overheard my mum talking to our cat on the other side of the door. She talked to her so affectionately that I was actually kinda jelaous, but it was overall hilarous because my mum had always been claiming that she really didn't like the cat at all. So imagine me, standing near the door and smiling like stupid bc of my mum’s cuteness. Then my mum entered the room that I was in. I said, “so, you don’t like her?” with my arms crossed. My mum just smiled and answered, “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” and left.
> 
> I love that woman so much. 
> 
> Anyway, what are your thoughts, dear readers?


End file.
